


But you never see it coming

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Merpeople
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 10:40:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2022018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After he came back he couldn't afford life in London, but it was ok. He enjoyed the seaside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rhianon Hantorian](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Rhianon+Hantorian).



There was a fullmoon enlightning the surrounding as they succeeded after a long struggle and were now taking care of the transport.

They have fallen into a deep shit, to face the truth. They played with fire they shouldn't and now not only pissed off, but also owed money the people who were not exactly nice.

But now, now it would change. They have found a golden treasure, they will run away, take the cash and disappear. They will change the identity, buy a house at the end of the world, in New Zeland maybe. And they will live a calm, and honest life. They won't really need all those nasty crimes any more. They won't need to make their hands dirty any more. All the problems of past will be fied, and the beautiful future will come.

They thought of it as they were making their way though the forests, desperately hing for this to end and change into nice dreams soon.

But you never see it coming. Fate is cruel. It makes us pay for al the sins. They were very bad boys, calm life in New Zeland was not for them. Be carful when you play with fire or you might get burned. Not so nice people always come for they're money. And they always take them. Or they become even less nice.

But they were not fools. They were not to give up so easily. They might have been followed, they might have been found out, but nobody knew about the treasure, and so they were not going to change it. They couldn't have played their ace in the hole immidiately. They needed to hide it, so they could run away fast without the weight, but so the could come back for it. 

The abandoned cottage seemed perfect, and they could access the cellar easily through the open window. It caused a bit trouble to leave the treasure safely, but at last they made it, and so they could focus on the chase.

They gone through the forests, hoping the darkness and trees will help them hide. But people following them, though had little manners, certainly didn't lack technology. They had torches, big spotlights, vehicles, night-vision devices, computer trackers, GPS, and lots of weapon of different type. Not that use of any of it would not end in the same lethal way. And, obviously, they were pretty pissed off.

They tried their best to get out. They had to eventually get caught, and they didn't expect it to be different, but they could still negotiate. They could still get out of it alive. The chances were little, of course. Very little, indeed. They were kneeling in front of their "boss", captivated, they took a look at each other. It seemed that they really reached the point to play open cards, to tell about the treasure...

But they never made it. Didn't have time. Next morning  the police found two bodies, declared killed by the animals. The death couldn't have been quick.

* * *

It hurt when he hit the ground of the cellar, idiots just threw him insde, not thinking of the height. Apparently the pain even bigger than his hurt pride. He didn't like the state he was in, and didn't like the plans of his captors. But what was worring him now, was the fact that though his captors must have been dead by now, and their killers didn't know his location (or even wasn't aware of his 'role' in this any way), the house was clearly not abandoned as they have thought.

He wondered if it was to be his advantage or just the opposite...

* * *

The abandoned cottage only appeared so at night, while in the sunlight one could easily see curtains and a well-taken-care-of garden. The paint on the walls was faded and falling off, but the owner couldn't afford renewing the facade. The window to the cellar was open because of the dampness, though this problem was really impossible to be fully fought when you live at the shore. Still it was good to have open windows due to the boiling hot, to let the wind in the house. And so the windows to the kitchen and living room were open too, as was the window to the owner's bedroom.

And the owner was still in his bed, shifting anxiusly on the bed. His eyes were tightly closed, and it was clear he had a nightmare. With a sudden bump of a window moved by the wind, he woke up sharply, and closed his eyes again, slowly breathing and trying to proceed what was only a dream. He finally relaxed and got up, though there was still a glimpse of sadness in is eyes, as he limped to the kitchen. Even there, at the welsh seaside, war was still haunting John Watson.

He opened the fridge and glanced through the empty shelfs. He sighed and slowly went all the stairs to the cellar, also rembering about the open window. He should have stopped even bothering with that, as the celllar will always be damp, the advantage of living at the shore. 

He was about to close the window, but what he saw have stopped him. In his own cellar... he couldn't really believe it.

There was a man, with deep black, curly hair and amazingly blue, terrified, though trying to hide it, eyes. He was very pale, but it was rather the fault of complexion rather than fear, and maybe a bit the temprature. The man must have been freezing cold by now. But what was the most shocking part, for not only having a starger in his cellar, was the state the man was in. 

He wa gagged strongly, though not very skillfully, and he was clearly chocking on the too big piece in his mouth. His hands tied all too tightly behind his back, and legs... not similarly retrained. Probably because there are no, and instead a long, deep purple, shiny tail. Beautiful indeed. Not that very usual for humans...

John quickly rushed to let the poor man out the ropes he was tied up with so cruelly. As he kneeled next to the creature and started undoing the restraints, he increadibly blue eyes turned the other way with a mixture of shame and anxiety, the look very unsure. John understood. He still had the upper hand, not being the one captured and thrown in the starnger world, like the fish out of water (for the lack of better words), and though even he felt confused and lost in that situation. He carefully freed man's torso of the rope, and anxiusly turned to the gag.

What now?


	2. Chapter 2

They have looked at each other for a while when the merman decided to break the silence first, speaking with audible difficulty caused by  the gag restricting and drying his mouth whole night. 

"Though even despite my situation is rather worse than yours, I understand you must be pretty confused too, but I'd be really grateful, if we skipped the part of the general confusion when we both try to avoid each others looks and hope this is not real. No matter how uncomfortable , I assure you it is real, unfortunately, so let's go to the thing..."

There was a pause as he considered how to finish the sentence.

"...please?"

John looked at him as the logic of the statemen hit him. Why people never thought this way? It was reasonable, sensible. Sometimes life-saving. He looked at the merman and smiled.

"I like you."

Then he jumped to his feet and started running around the cellar, looking for something. Man left at the floor seemed suddenly less conident and confused, as though he didn't understand Johns reaction. 

"How do you even know english?"

John asked as he put a wet towel over mans tail. He seemed relaed, like the whole situation was all the way normal. 

"Or not. Don't answer, don't speak at all, you need to drink first. We should take care of all damage your attackers lack of skills have done."

He brought a blanket and a few boxes, of which he arraged sth tht made it comfortable for the merman to sit. After another while of wandering around a cellar, he came back with a handful of medicaments, first aid box, ad a bottle of still water.

"Here. Drink."

He gave the man a bottle, and while he drank obidiently, (though still with a suspective look in his ocean blue eyes), John tended to his wounds. He cleaned him up, taken care of the dried blood and made sure there is no risk of infection, bandaged the damged wrists and arms. Finished he put everything away, changed the towel on the mans tail, and brought another bottle of water, as there was really no other effective way of taking care of the damage made by the awful gag.

"How did it happen? How did you got shot?"

John stopped as he heard the words coming from the merman. He really wasn't the one such question should be adressed to in this situation...

"You find a violated, injured, tied up merman in your cellar, and instead of panicing you help him. You had no problem or discofort wth freeing me, so you're familiar with ways of restricting a man. You act sensibly cause you were trained for critical situation, this is all a battlefield for you. 

When you were going down here, you were limping. It disappeared the moment you saw me. Adrenaline rushed through your veins, and you didn't think of the leg. So it's psychomatic, you miss the war. You were retired only because of an injury. You love adventure, you're an adrenaline junkie, would't choose a calm life at the seaside. You only moved here because the money from the army was were enough to afford a flat in the big city.

You tensed the moment you noticed I'm bound, gagged and injured, and accted quickly and calmly. You tended my wounds proffesionally, didn't allow me to speak till I drank, to avoid further dmage after a night with a gag on. You even put a wet towel on my tail, though the biology of my species is not what you've been suding at uni. You think logically, focused on saving a life, distracted by nothing. Everything about you screams doctor.

An army surgeon, right?"

"Increadible. Absolutely unbelievable. How did you... how can you know all that? Damn, I couldn't deal wih the limp myself for years, and you just... I have never met a man with such amazing skills of observation..."

"Deduction."

"However you call it, it's brilliant. But back to my question from earlier, how do you know english?"

"Isn't that obvious? I might have had a tail, but I am really just a human trapped in a sea. One can't speak underwater anyway, so I only use language on the surface or at the shore, which is as you can expect not really often if at all, but I'm as british as you are. Merpeople in Baltic speak polish and in the Mediterrean they speak italian, and so I speak english."

"Yeah, makes sense. I still have questions... As I suppose you have them either, and wouldn't mind a little talk. Having a chance to speak so rarely, and couldn't show yourself to the people, you must lust for a conversation now that a chance appears. You won't have much choice actually, as the salt is our problem. You can't return to the sea if you don't want infection, so whever you like it or not, you'll stay at mine for a while. Don't worry, I won't be intrusive if you didn't like my presence. I'll just take care of the wounds. But we can discuss it later, while right now it's a time for breakfast, so how about we go upstairs? You'll tell me how you ended up so miserably tied up, (quite literally), in such a deep shit, and we can think of the way out."

The merman failed miserably at trying to hide a small smile.

"Breakfast...?"

He echoed with a tone of surprise in the quiet, low and gentle voice.


End file.
